La rebelle
by lookingtoland
Summary: Set pre-pilot in 1956 France. Colette sneaks out of the orphanage, but not before getting caught.


**La rebelle**

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to** Alidiabin** and her stories **Girl Talk **and** Tête-à-tête **for getting me thinking and inspiring this story. So while this is written in English, please keep in mind that this obviously takes place in France and all characters speak French. And just for fun I pictured a young Vincent Cassel type for Guillaume.  
**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

The snug red dress and heels she was wearing were making this more difficult than usual, but she had managed to make it halfway out the window, when she heard a creak in the floorboard. With her long dark hair blocking her view of the doorway, she silently hoped she hadn't been caught.

"Colette, where are you going?" came a small voice, "and why are you using the window?"

She looked up to see a small dark-haired boy of about 5 years old dressed in a pair of light blue pajamas.

"Michel, what are you doing out of bed?" she said pulling herself back into the room of sleeping children, "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No. I just couldn't sleep," replied the little boy rubbing the obvious slumber from his eyes. "Where are you going?" he repeated. "Can I come too?"

Her lips curved upward as she ran a caring, tender hand down his cheek and took hold of his much smaller one gently leading him back to his bed at the end of the room.

"I'm going to see a friend. Don't you want to stay with your friends?" she asked lifting him up so they were eye to eye.

"But you're my friend. My best friend," he yawned resting his head on her shoulder.

"You're my friend too," she said feeling herself get teary-eyed at the child's sentiment. "How about you go back to sleep and tomorrow when you wake up you and I can go to the movies. We can see Lady and the Tramp. Would you like that?"

He nodded and she placed him carefully on his bed.

It was moments like these that made it difficult to leave the orphanage, no matter how draconian the nuns could be at times. At 19, she was past the age where she could go out into the world on her own, but she stayed for her family. For her surrogate family, the children and even the nuns who she had grown to love and for her biological family, her parents. As time went on she held onto the slightest of hopes that one day they would come for her, but it was not until recently she was beginning to realize those hopes were slowly starting to dim.

"Alright," she said tucking him in tightly and placing a kiss on his forehead before she started to sing him a lullaby she remembered from childhood. Whether it was sung to her by her mother or by one of the sisters she couldn't say.

_Dodo, l'enfant do,_  
_L'enfant dormira bien vite_  
_Dodo, l'enfant do_  
_L'enfant dormira bientôt._

_Une poule blanche_  
_Est là dans la grange._  
_Qui va faire un petit coco_  
_Pour l'enfant qui va fair' dodo._

_Dodo, l'enfant do,_  
_L'enfant dormira bien vite_  
_Dodo, l'enfant do_  
_L'enfant dormira bientôt._

_Tout le monde est sage_  
_Dans le voisinage_  
_Il est l'heure d'aller dormir_  
_Le sommeil va bientôt venir._

* * *

As soon as Michel had fallen asleep, she had made sure to check that the others were dreaming before climbing down the garden wall and running across the courtyard, which was difficult to do in heels, to where her date was parked in front of the church waiting.

"Guillaume! You brought the motorbike?" she said as she approached the rugged, leather jacket wearing artist, "I'm wearing a dress."

"Sorry," he said unapologetically, before he grabbed the back of her head to bring her into a passionate kiss.

She pushed him away breaking the kiss, "Not in front of the church. You know that."

"Come on, it's dark," he laughed handing her a helmet.

Putting it on, she climbed onto the back of his bike and situated herself as best she could in such a tight dress.

"You're lucky that I like going fast."

"I am lucky, aren't I?" he said taking her arms and wrapping them around his waist, "Maybe you'll even let me paint you tonight."

She scoffed at the very thought.

"Where are we going again?" Colette asked, changing the topic.

"La placette," Guillaume replied, before revving the bike and driving off into the night.

The sound was sure to wake the nuns.


End file.
